that subject which has not yet been thoroughly considered.'

As the subject of the whole book is a discourse on the analogy between the constitution and course of nature, and natural and revealed religion, it must be admitted that the absence of any precautions against the abuses of analogical reasoning, and an avowed ignorance of the limits and value of the method itself, are considerable defects even if they were unavoidable.

XVI

WARBURTON'S DIVINE LEGATION'

1

THERE are many books of which every one knows the title, and hardly any one knows much more, and though it may often be true that those who do happen to have read such works would find a difficulty in recommending others to follow their example, they may generally extract from them some few observations of general interest. It is in the hope of doing so that we propose to make a few remarks on the book to which Bishop Warburton dedicated so many years of his life, the Divine Legation of Moses. It is one of the most singular books that ever was written. Though it is not merely itself a nominis umbra, but a member of a class now obsolete, it contains an amount of learning, of ingenuity, and of mental power which has seldom been equalled in any single book, and it illustrates habits of mind, and ways

1 The Divine Legation of Moses demonstrated on the Principles of a Religious Deist, from the Omission of the Doctrine of a Future State of Rewards and Punishments in the Jewish Dispensation. By William Warburton, M. A.

of thinking, which have deeply affected the whole history of England, intellectual and political.

The Church of England has often been praised for its learning, and it has also been largely credited with its liberalism. For a great length of time it was customary to compare it with the Church of Rome on the one hand, and the extreme Protestants on the other, and to contrast with great complacency, the degree in which it had fostered reason and learning, with the antipathy which the Romanists felt for everything which could rival the supreme authority claimed for their Church, and which the Puritans felt for everything which could make their rigid systems appear ungraceful and unnatural.

In this, as in all other boasts, there was no doubt a great deal of hollowness. To claim for the Church of England pre-eminence in these respects is manifestly absurd. It is simply puerile to underrate the learning of the French ecclesiastical writers on the one hand, or that of the Germans on the other; but it is nevertheless quite true that for a long period the Church of England had not merely a strong, but a special and peculiar sympathy, with learning, and that its clergy always enjoyed, as they still enjoy, a remarkable degree of liberty in speculation. No confession of faith leaves so many questions open as the Thirtynine Articles, and no spiritual courts were ever so little inclined to suppress, or even to meddle with, theological inquiry, as the courts of which those articles are the law. Careful inquiries recently made

disclosed the fact that, between the Restoration and the Gorham case, there were but three or four prosecutions for heresy.

The peculiar character of this alliance between the Church of England and literary criticism and speculation-in other words, the peculiar character of that sort of liberalism which has always been natural to the Church of England-has seldom been better illustrated than in the works of Warburton. Its specific peculiarity consists in arriving at orthodox conclusions upon grounds open to all the world. A learned Roman Catholic has his first principles found for him, and his learning and ingenuity have always had to address themselves to the task of deducing new conclusions from the old principles, or supporting the old assertions by new facts. The stricter kinds of Protestants were confined to the interpretation of the Bible, which they were bound to construe in accordance with their own austere systems. Those who had cast off all definite creeds were, of course, not anxious about the orthodoxy of their conclusions; but the great writers of the Church of England piqued themselves on their orthodoxy, and piqued themselves also on the principle that the Bible was by no means to be taken as the exclusive guide to truth, but was to be illustrated and confirmed by every other kind of knowledge, whether of matters of fact or of matters of speculation.

This is the leading principle of Hooker, and to

this day it has never been entirely dropped out of sight. The consequence has been twofold. On the one hand, Anglican divinity is singularly rich in learned and ingenious apologies, and books on the evidences of religion. On the other hand, Anglican divines, though comparatively free from the failings of dogmatists, are full of the failings of advocates. They show plenty of industry in getting up their briefs, and abundant ingenuity in addressing the jury, but, with some few exceptions, they always hold a brief and address a jury.

Thoroughgoing dogmatists and independent inquirers are not subject to this temptation, though they have doubtless others of their own; but no one will do justice to the peculiar character of English theology who does not bear in mind this its special characteristic. It proceeds on the twofold assumption that certain conclusions are true, and that reason is the proper judge of truth. This explains, amongst other things, the great controversial success of English theology, and the slightness of the hold which many of its most celebrated works have had on the conscience and on the permanent convictions of the nation.

Five-and-twenty years ago it was a common remark that, in the great controversy of the last century, the Divines completely silenced the Freethinkers. This was true in a sense, and in an important sense, yet it was but an advocate's triumph after all. If they had not only answered their opponents, but